


Tear Me Down

by thelordofstarsanddreams



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Cassian loves her badass ways, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Dominance, Femdom, Hair-pulling, Happy Ending, Happy Nessian, Idiots in Love, Illyrians, Mates, NSFW, Nesta is leader of the female Illyrians, Post-ACOFAS, Power Play, Rough Sex, Scratching, Sex, She wears pants and he loses it, Soul Bond, This is what I want once the next books are done, True Love, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Warrior Nesta, Wing Kink, Wings, Woman on Top, illyrian camp, male submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 14:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelordofstarsanddreams/pseuds/thelordofstarsanddreams
Summary: When the eldest Archeron sister had first arrived at the camps, she'd refused to wear anything other than impractical gowns, or leggings with tunics that fell below her knees meeting the high boots she coupled with them.Now Nesta held her ground in the high summer sun, the honed muscles of her arm shifting with each move of the blade. The strong dip of her shoulders disappearing beneath the black vest which clung to her supple figure, an Illyrian sheath at her spine. The breeches she wore were tight and belted, commpanied with those same boots and displaying the sculptured length of her long legs.As she turned, the sunlight glinted off the silken braided strands of her hair, knitted in a crown around her skull. Her cheeks were flushed, sweat coating her skin, and a look of determination on her sharp features.A warrior Queen, that's what she was.





	Tear Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Another Nesta/Nessian fic based on a handful a prompts I got from tumblr. This took longer than expected mainly because I ended up writing a lot more than I planned. Anyway, this is NSFW as already warned. I've always wanted Nesta leading the Illyrian females even before ACOFAS so I am hammering hard on bad ass warrior Nesta. The prompt is a mixture of that idea, Nesta wearing pants and the effect on Cassian, and her need for siphons to control her powers. Hope you enjoy!

The sharp clash of swords echoed around the training area.

Three separate rings were marked out on the flat field, and each held two Illyrian females. With the exception of one woman. A High Fae who faced off against a clipped female. 

Cassian lingered on the edge of the field, watching with utter pride at the sight before him. It had taken so long, longer than he'd ever imagined, but finally the females trained regularly. Finally they held their places among the Illyrians and demanded to be heard.

His mother would be so proud. 

Females, those who could fly, even those who had been clipped, they had a right to train. And they were led by that High Fae.

Nesta Archeron had found her place among them. A leader, an ally, a friend. 

Over a year in the Illyrian camps had seen her blossom. 

Gone was that sickly woman from after the war. In her place, stood a warrior. 

When the eldest Archeron sister had first arrived at the camps, she'd refused to wear anything other than impractical gowns, or leggings with tunics that fell below her knees meeting the high boots she coupled with them. 

Now Nesta held her ground in the high summer sun, the honed muscles of her arm shifting with each move of the blade. The strong dip of her shoulders disappearing beneath the black vest which clung to her supple figure, an Illyrian sheath at her spine. The breeches she wore were tight and belted, commpanied with those same boots and displaying the sculptured length of her long legs.

As she turned, the sunlight glinted off the silken braided strands of her hair, knitted in a crown around her skull. Her cheeks were flushed, sweat coating her skin, and a look of determination on her sharp features. 

A warrior Queen, that's what she was.

Cassian didn't know it was possible to be this in love with someone. To be so full of pride and admiration he felt his very chest might explode. 

As if sensing his gaze, grey eyes met his. A flicker of recognition burning there before she brought down the blade in her hand, disarming the Illyrian female.

"Time out. Take a break. Get some water."

Without hesitation or question of those orders, each female sheathed their weapon, jostling one another and grinning as they made to grab cup fulls of water and take a breather from the growing heat of the day.

Nesta slid her sword back into the sheath on her back, red siphons glowing brightly on her hands as she did so, helping focusing that devasting power of hers. That essence of death that was part of her.

"Are you monitoring me, General?" There was a commanding sway to her hips as she approached him, fixing the fastenings on her siphon carrying gloves as she walked. 

"Not monitoring. More admiring," Cassian's grin was wolfish, not making any attempt to hide the way he drank her in. This female. His equal. His mate.

It had taken a full year for the both of them to accept the bond that had formed between them long ago. To willingly give in to what it meant and allow it to change their relationship into something else. Something more. 

They were still learning. 

"Don't you have better things to do?"

Nesta's voice was sharp, familiar in its coldness, though there was no volatile harshness to the bite of her words. Training was something she took serious now that she'd taken point with females and helped quell the rebellion among the Illyrian ranks. 

"Always. But I find myself otherwise distracted."

Those grey eyes narrowed, her nostrils flaring as she dropped her hand to her hip, tilting her head to the side.

"Unless you're trying to attract another female, you need to stand here peacocking."

"I'm doing no such thing."

"I can scent you from across the field."

"It's not my fault that seeing you in breeches does things to me."

Smirking, Nesta folded her arms over her chest. It wasn't difficult to sense where his mind was. She could smell it on him, feel it in the way that bond tensed and crackled between them. 

"I'll speak to you later, General," As she turned, Nesta dragged her shirt up to white the sweat on her brow, letting him glimpse the tanned, toned muscles of her stomach, an intentional gesture as she padded back towards the other females barking immediate orders for them to get back to it.

This game wasn't over yet.

\-----------------------

Cassian's tent was on the outskirts of the Illyrian camp. 

Bigger in size than most, enough to accommodate both his bed and other affects, along with the long table he now stood at with Devlon and two other Commanders. 

Since the rebellions, there was a lot of rebuilding to be done. New treaties to be drawn up. Steps to ensure the same thing didn't happen again.

A map was laid out in front of them, various areas marked out which they gestured at and motioned to as they spoke. 

Cassian was in a heated discussion with Devlon when the tent entrance opened and Nesta drifted in, completely unapologetic about interrupting the meeting.

The strands of her hair had been loosened from her braid, falling freely around her shoulders, her skin sun kissed and laced with sweat from the last of her training. 

None of the other males dared look at her for longer than a heartbeat. Not as the air in the room shifted.

Nesta scoffed at them, the only acknowledgement she gave as she leaned down to undo her boots, kicking them off carelessly, straightening and stretching, letting her joints crack and her muscles flutter with the movement. 

"Out."

The growl of Cassian's voice was all it took for her to know that she had won the battle.

Whatever words of protest were made to be spoken were silenced with a growl from the General. 

Within moments, Devlon and the others were gone. 

"Distracted, General?" Nesta arched her brow, sliding her tunic from her body, her skin still slick with sweat. The underclothes designed specifically for training hugged her heavy breasts as she stepped towards Cassian and the table in front of him. 

His eyes were almost black. His scent predatory. 

"Show me the plans."

The tone of her voice was commanding, pressing her hands to the table as she looked over the sprawling map. There was a pause, a beat of silence, and then Cassian shifted until he was behind her, the strong length of his body pressing against her. 

"We're rearranging the camps. Integrating the clans." 

His mouth brushed along the nape of her neck, breathing her in as he rested his hands on her hips, noting the hitch of her breath as she looked over the map in front of her. 

"Will there be more females?"

"Yes, they'll be joining your ranks to be trained."

"Good."

There would never be a moment when he didn't admire that confidence. Didn't thrive on hearing how settled she was in this place of hers. The one she had earned for herself. 

"I should bathe. It's been a long day."

It was true. She'd been training from the early hours in the scorching heat. Yet if Nesta had a notion of bathing first, she would have done so. Not come to his tent. No, she had intentions for being here.

"If that's what you want," Cassian's hips pressed against the plump curve of her ass as his fingers undid the notches of her belt.

Now Nesta growled. A low vicious snarl. Dominating. Demanding. 

The all too familiar pulse of that mating bond was enough to reaffirm that neither of them had any desire to separate. He'd known it from the moment she'd entered the tent. 

Knew it even more so when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of breeches, past underclothes, fingers finding just how slick she was. 

A shudder coursed through Nesta, her breath hitching as she pressed down against his hand.

"You know what I want."

Yes, he did. It radiated from her. 

The tips of his fingers swept over that bundle of nerves, coaxing until she was certain her legs would buckle beneath her.

"Put your hands on the table." 

There was no snarl of sarcasm. No smart retort. Nesta pressed her palms to the table in front of her, red siphons glinting, until she was almost bent fully over in front of him. 

As she did so, he eased her breeches down her legs to just below her knees, enough to allow her to part her legs. The cool air lapped at her skin, making her shiver, her body tight with anticipation. 

They had fucked before they'd ever accepted the bond. Had used it as an outlet. But since the mating bond had snapped into place, they had been insatiable. It had been a few months, but even then they could barely be around one another. 

Rhysand had been made to banish Cassian from the camps for the first month because of how many fights he got into any time a male so much as looked at Nesta.

She hadn't been much better behaved.

And since she'd started wearing breeches it had made everything even harder. 

There was the tell tale shuffle of fastenings being undone, a scrape of cloth, which earned a hiss from the woman, her nails scraping against the wood of the desk.

"Will you hurry up." 

It earned a chuckle from Cassian, which faded into a low hum as the tip of his cock eased along the length of her, teasing and slow. Not quite giving her what she wanted.

And Nesta didn't beg.

That was something he'd realised early on. No matter how much he pushed or teased. She didn't beg. Would barely utter a please. In the end, she was the one to make him plead and dissolve into a pool of desperation and want. 

She was the one person he didn't mind shedding his pride for. 

"You either fuck me or I'll get someone who can."

It was a threat she never followed through on. Not any more. But it still got a reaction from Cassian. Still drummed on that possessive Illyrian nerve. 

Enough that he buried himself in her in a swift, rough movement. 

It earned a groan from both of them.

They weren't gentle with one another. Even in their softer moments it wasn't how they were. It was always rough, eager. A search for pleasure and want of being together while feeling something. Everything.

Cassian gave her a moment to adjust before the impatient rock of her hips had him thrusting hard into her, one hand reaching to gather the strands of her hair between his fingers, gripping, pulling. 

There was an unmistakable creak of wood as Nesta's fingers curled around the desk, threarening to snap it into pieces. 

"Harder."

"Always so demanding."

Nesta didn't get the chance to offer a retort of any degree as Cassian obliged, fingers digging into the flesh of her hip, clutching tighter at her hair, each snap of his hips becoming harsher.

"General?"

The voice from outside the tent interrupted their otherwise blissful moment.

Cassian stilled, buried within her, a flutter of anger washing through him, rivaled only by Nesta who snarled towards the entrance of the tent. 

"Get rid of them."

It was a miracle she didn't snap the table in two when he slid out of her. And perhaps even more so that he managed to do so. 

Taking the time to ease himself back into his breeches, approaching the entrance of the tent and pulling it open, greeted by the sight of one of the camp runners. An Illyrian tasked with delivering messages and information for those otherwise too busy to do so.

The male was wide eyed and nervous looking as he saluted out of respect. There was no question he could scent what Cassian had been otherwise engaged in doing. 

"Sorry to interrupt General, but-"

"What is it?"

The Illyrian bastard couldn't help the impatient snap in his voice or the way in which his wings flared slightly behind him.

"The High Lord and Shadowsinger have insisted I make you aware of their arrival and that they expect your presence."

Bastards. Absolute pricks.

His brothers no doubt had an idea of where he was and what he was doing. If it was an emergency, Rhysand would have winnowed to his tent regardless of who was with him. 

He could almost hear an echo of smug laughter. 

"Tell my High Lord and the Shadowsinger they can wait."

The messenger looked torn, his mouth hanging open slightly. Highly unfair that he got the task of dealing with the three most feared males in the Night Court. 

Sighing, Cassian shook his head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Tell them, I've received their message and will join them shortly when my current meeting is over."

The Illyrian nodded and bolted without another word and the General retreated back into the tent. 

Nesta had not wasted time.

Gone from the desk, the woman had stripped herself entirely, with the exception of the red siphons still at her hands. Now she stood, watching him with stormy eyes.

"This can't work with only one of us naked."

Cassian was stripped in seconds, almost falling over himself as he tried to shed breeches without removing his boots, casting away item after item until he made for her with lightning quickness. Only to be met with a hand on his chest. 

That look in her eyes was one he knew well. 

Nesta didn't need strength to lead him. Obediently, he followed as she turned and coaxed him back towards the sizeable bed, until his legs hit the edge and he sunk onto it, seated up right, letting his wings spread slightly.

In an easy movement, Nesta straddled him, slipping her hand between them to grip his cock, to guide him back to her and let her sink down onto the length of him.

"I don't appreciate being interrupted," Her words were a dangerous purr, hips still even as he sunk fully into her. The Fae's hands went to his wings, tracing the ridges, the leathery skin, down to the joinings on his back. She knew how sensitive that patch of skin was, so she had no issue lightly dragging her nails down those joints, hearing him groan and feeling the twitch of him inside of her. 

"Your playmates can have you when I'm done with you."

"I shouldn't keep my High Lord waiting."

"You shouldn't leave your mate unsatisfied."

"You make a good argument."

"Don't I just?" Nesta rolled her hips as if to accent her point, her hands sliding along his shoulders, across his neck, tracing the inky swirls of his tattoo as she came to cradle his face, holding his gaze.

For a long moment, they stared at one another, before Cassian leaned in and claimed her mouth with his own. 

The kiss was hungry, deep, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, coaxing a delighted sigh from her lips. Nesta's long fingers slid into the long strands of his midnight black hair, nails grazing his scalp. 

The calluses of his hands scraped her skin as he slid them over the skin of her hips, along her back as she began to ride him, slowly and steady, savoring each time he sank deep within her.

"Nesta..."

There would never be a moment when the Fae female didn't live for the way he moaned her name. Like a whispered blessing spoken to the Mother herself. Utter worship and love. 

"Don't stop."

It was as close to a plea as she ever got. 

In a flicker, Nesta found herself on her back, Cassian dragging her legs onto his shoulders, granting him a deeper angle with each hard thrust.

Gasping breaths broken by hissing moans echoed from Nesta, her fingers knotted in his hair as his mouth found her breast and his tongue worked aching circles over her peaked nipple. With it, Cassian slid his hand between her legs, fingers coaxing that bundle of nerves in time with his thrusts and brush of his mouth. 

Nesta came first with a flutter of power that whispered through the tent. Her nails raked along his scalp, pressed into his shoulder, clutching him as close to her as possible as she gave into the violence of her pleasure.

The quivering clench of her around him was enough to have Cassian spill into her with a roar that was as shattering as the power which flowed from her. 

Neither of them could move, limbs heavy, panting breath mimicking one another's.

When the male finally eased from her, it was only so he could settle on the bed next to her before gathering the woman into his arms, pressing his face against her hair. 

"I love you."

The words still caught him by surprise when Nesta spoke them. As soft and vulnerable as they were. She was still finding her way in all this. Letting herself feel again hadn't been easy. 

"Cute."

Cassian's retort and low chuckle were met with a swift dig in the ribs from Nesta's still gloved hand. Still laughing, he caught her hand, removing the glove and siphon, setting it carefully aside before kissing along her knuckles, the back of her hand, the inside of her wrist.

"I love you too, Nes."

"Don't call me Nes."

The Illyrian bastard only smirked with an open smugness as he leaned down to kiss her again. 

\-----------------------

Nesta had him twice more before she allowed him to leave the tent, mainly because the day of training and their activities had worn her out. She wanted a long bath and to sleep.

So Cassian had dragged himself from the bed to wash and dress once more.

Following the winding path to the small house, Rhysand's mother's old house (which had since been mostly rebuilt after the rebel attacks), the General arrived at the door, not bothering to knock as he shoved it open.

As expected, Rhysand and Azriel were lounging by the fire, sharing a drink and grinning arrogantly in his direction as he entered the room.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Cass," The High Lord's voice was full of casual amusement, those violent eyes bright as he looked to the mated male.

"I didn't realize you both missed me so much."

"Don't we always?"

Meeting Azriel's cool yet content stare, the General snorted, making a point of rolling his eyes. "Just pour me a drink you bastards."

The low rumble of laughter rattled against the stone walls as Cassian crossed to accept a glass, sinking into a chair alongside his brothers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hopefully you enjoyed. If you did, leave a kudos and a comment! :D


End file.
